Wild Hearts
by TheJavaGirls
Summary: Forced into making a few poor decisions, Lindsey McDonald can't seem to keep his past, in the past. Not when his exfiance from home finds herself Wolfram and Hart's newest target. Now stuck with Angel and his loud mouth seer, Lindsey can't help but wonder
1. Chapter 1

"Please tell me you're here to sing." Barely through the door, Lindsey McDonald was brought up short by a very agitated host. His pale green skin clashed horribly with the canary yellow of his suit. The pink drink he had in his hand threatened to spill over the side with his quick movements. "Your voice would heaven to my ears after the abuse your colleagues have put me through."

"Was thinking about it." Keeping his face a cool void, Lindsey let his eyes scan the crowded room, taking mental note of which co-workers had shown up tonight. Reading each face, trying to determine what stage of panic each one was in. It felt oddly good, knowing he wasn't one of the poor bastards sweating in his shorts, praying for Lorne to give them some shred of good news to cling to.

With Samhain only a week away, several projects were in their finalization stages. While several others depended on the old magics of the hollowed day to help enhance incantations, guaranteeing a happy client. The employees at Wolfram and Hart knew their heads were on the chopping block, literally and went to every effort to ensure perfection.

He'd never really been sold on Samhain. Most of the older, more respected demons saw the day as insignificant. To them it was just another silly holiday created by humans. It was the younger, ignorant demons who made more of the night. Believing there was something otherworldly. Lindsey couldn't help but agree with the more sophisticated of his clientèle. Nothing he'd seen so far had proven Samhain, or Halloween as some may call it, was anything more than just another night.

Just because he thought it was all nonsense, didn't mean he didn't appreciate watching his colleagues make asses of themselves. For example the three on stage now, sounding like cats in heat while trying to belt out the lyrics to Queen's 'Somebody to Love'.

"Grant me the privilege of your sexy chords and drinks are on me for the night." Wincing when one of the unfortunate singers belted a key not known to mankind, Lorne placed a hand to his forehead in his typical dramatical way. "Those three should start packing now. They're in on hell of a mess. Come on Cowboy, let ole Clyde at the bar put you on the list."

Slapping Lorne on the back, Lindsey brushed past him toward the bar. "I'll let you know."

"I know you're dying to belt out one or two of your songs." Lorne yelled after him. "It's the only reason you come here."

Ordering a beer and finding a comfortable spot at the bar, Lindsey smirked as Ted from Entertainment took the stage. One of the newest starlets he was put in charge of had gone on a party spree the weekend before. Liquor, cocaine and dead bodies was one hell of a mess to clean up after. Not for the first time Lindsey was thankful he didn't take that career path.

Taking a long draw off his beer, Lindsey couldn't help but feel satisfied. Everything was looking up. His job was secure. Holland no longer looked at him with doubt in his eyes. Lilah was back to kissing ass for attention. And his newest bonus was more than he could ever wish for.

Looking down at his right hand, Lindsey balled his fingers into a fist and couldn't help but be impressed. Just two weeks after the operation and he had full use of his limb. After months of struggling with the prosthetics, he was once again free to shoot that bastard Angel the bird. Which he'd done the moment he'd been able to.

"Fine I'm begging." Lorne dropped down onto the stool next to Lindsey. "Please just one song. I doesn't need to be anything special. Besides I'm getting a little ticklish sense that it's something you might need to do for yourself."

That caught his attention. Nothing good ever came from an Empath telling you a reading may be in order. "What're you talking about?"

"Eh, I can't really tell. It could be good, it could be bad. Can't tell." Shrugging his padded shoulders, Lorne raised his glass to the barkeep and turned back. "But do us both a favor, get up there. Sing. Dance. Do something."

The song that had been playing finally ended, letting out a sigh of relief, Lorne clapped his hands loudly over the deafening silence before whispering in Lindsey's ear. "There's gonna be lots of job openings come November."

His previous good mood slowly ebbed, his eyes following the green host as he weaved through the crowd to the nervously waiting patrons. He hated when Lorne dropped vague, foreshadowing hints. It was clear something was about to happen and if anything Lindsey hated being blindsided. If Lorne was able to hint at some kind of roadblock in his future, it would give him time to create contingency plans.

He also didn't like being teased like some dumb dog with a juicy bone. Taunted with a bit of information he may need. He's stopped playing by everyone else's rules long ago. So it grated against his pride when he was pushed into action.

In half a mind to drain the rest of his beer and call it a night. But now that Lorne planted a seed of doubt he'd never get any sleep.

Ordering another beer and telling the bar keeper to add his name to the list, Lindsey settled back to wait for his turn. His bubble of smugness had been slightly deflated, he didn't quiet enjoy watching his co-workers make fools of themselves. Another beer later he got his signal from Lorne and made his way to the stage.

Feeling the stares boring into his back, Lindsey told himself it didn't matter. Let them stare. He wasn't the least bit intimidated. Taking his time reaching the stage, he reminded himself that the stage was just like any courtroom. He was able to entertain both a crowded bar room as well as his peers sitting on jury. Let his co-workers drool like hyenas over a chance to get one up on him. They were in for a long wait.

"What are you going to dazzle us with cowboy?" Looking drained from a long night of amature singing and high levels of stress, Lorne looked over at him in relief.

"Whatever." With a careless shrug of his shoulder's, Lindsey made his way to the microphone and waited for the music to queue. He didn't care if Lorne played Mary had a Little Lamb, he just wanted to get this over with.

With the opening cords of his chosen song Lindsey felt as though the floor beneath him had disappeared. His stomach clenched into a tight ball, while the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Swallowing against the bile that rose up his throat, Lindsey licked him lips and forced himself to sing the words he knew by heart. While shutting down the part of himself that had been caught in a moment of pure panic.

Before the last note faded, Lindsey was off the stage and headed toward the door. No longer caring to have Lorne read him, he wove his way around the small tables until he reached the door and slammed out into the night air.

Taking deep breath, his hands threaded their way through his overgrown locks as he stared up at the night sky.

"Are you forgetting something?" Lorne slipped into the night, taking a careful look around. The last thing he needed was for some lost couple from Ohio to come stumbling upon them. "You sing, which I personally can't thank you enough for and the I do my thing. Preferably inside, tucked away at one of those comfy little tables I have inside. We've done it a few times, I would've thought you had the pattern down by now."

"Don't bother." His nerves still taunt, Lindsey dropped his hands to his sides and tried to school his expression into one of boredom. "I've decided I don't need it after all."

His eyes widening, Lorne made an uncertain face. "I'm not too sure about that Buckeroo. You may want to come back inside with me."

One of the last places on earth he wanted to be, was back inside that bar. "I'm comfortable where I'm at. If you're gonna do this, just spit it out. I don't need all of the fluffy crap to go along with it."

"You want it straight?" Lorne's friendly demure hardened slightly, his smile slipped, while his eyes lost their shine. "No soft positioning. No warm fuzzies? Fine."

"Fine." Lindsey sneered back.

"You ever heard of the saying Fates Bitch?" Lorne asked in a clipped tone. "I'm sure you have, seeing how you are."

"That's it, I'm out of here." With a disgusted wave of his hand, Lindsey turned on his heal and headed to the parking lot.

"You're fucked Cowboy. There's no other way to say it." Lorne waited until the young lawyer stopped, though he didn't turn back around he knew he had center stage. "There's not many customers I would follow out into the alley. So I suggest you listen. You are getting close to the end of your very short rope. Your fancy tap dancing at work. Past decisions you've made. They are all coming to a climatic climax and if you don't play it right, you're gonna lose everything."

"So what am I supposed to do?" His shoulders slumped slightly with the weight of Lorne's words. He shouldn't have been surprised, not with the chances he took, he just wasn't ready for an end game yet.

"Whatever you feel is right." A trace of pity laced through the em pith's tone. "Lindsey, you need to be careful with what you do. There's a lot at stake and one wrong move can hurt a lot of people."

"Is that it?" With a frustrated sigh, Lindsey turned around. "Any other words of wisdom?"

"Don't make the wrong choice." Lorne suggested in his casual way before heading back to the door.

"What was that song all about?" A surge of anger flashed though him as Lorne paused.

"I'm not following."

"The song Lorne. How did you know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. It was the next one in queue. Drive safely Lindsey." Pulling the door open to let the noise from inside spill out into the night, Lorne sent him one last look before going inside.

Not convinced, Lindsey stalked to where he parked. It pissed him off how a night that had been looking up turned to shit within minutes. Letting himself inside his car, he slammed the door with more force than needed. Leaning his head against the headrest he gave himself a few minutes to clear his mind and regain control of his emotions.

Reminding himself of his accomplishments and the status he richly deserved at the firm helped. Telling himself there hadn't been a problem he hadn't skated out of made the tightness in his shoulders relax. When he felt he had a reasonable amount of control over himself, Lindsey started the car and put it into gear.

The country station he'd been listening to earlier that night poured through the speakers. The tune turned his blood to ice again, as Lindsey slammed to a halt as John Michael Montgomery's voice filled the inside of the car. Viciously pounding the power button Lindsey swore a blue streak before letting his frustrations out on the dashboard.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Lindsey McDonald if you don't get out of that tree this second, I'm gonna tell your Momma." _

The shrill voice snapped him out of a deep sleep, causing his entire body to jerk into an upright position. Scanning the darkened room more out of instinct than need, Lindsey knew he wouldn't find the owner of that particular voice.

She was hundreds of miles away, and years older now.

In all honesty, if she were to come upon him now, she probably wouldn't threaten to go for his Momma. Instead, she probably would be searching for the nearest supply of rocks to wing at him till he fell out of that damn tree. Christ, she'd probably keep throwing until he was knocked unconscious.

If there was ever was a bridge he'd effectively burned, it was that one. An arsonist with a gallon of gasoline and a book of matches couldn't have done a better job. It was a damn bridge he wanted to erase from ever cell of his brain. But no matter how hard he tried to block out that part of his life, it always seemed to trickle back through the cracks.

"Crap." With an exhausted sigh he slumped back against the pillows. Three nights now he'd been plagued by that one particular dream. Three nights where he'd been forced from the comfort of his bed to stalk his dark and quiet apartment. Tonight he refused to allow a memory from his past to get the best of him. He wasn't some homesick college kid who craved for his girl's voice and charms.

Fuck Lorne. It's not like he had a magic eight ball. He'd been wrong before, saying one thing and the situation playing out slightly different.

Besides, no one could touch him at work. The project with Darla was on schedule. Any week now she'd be ready for her debut and he would have front row seats to watch as Angel fell on his face. Concerned his juggling act was about to crash and burn, he'd kept his eyes open over the last few days, watching Holland Manners for any sign that the back up plan he had was going to be needed.

Not a thing, not even a slight frown to indicate a possibility that something could be wrong . He was still Wolfram and Harts Golden Boy.

Sucking in a deep breath feeling the tension slacken.

But what about the song?

His abdominal muscles balled up again, almost anticipating a sucker punch. Having played the game long enough, he knew to ignore any coincidence could be fatal. So why that song? If it Lorne was by some small chance right, what did it mean? The song only meant one thing to him. Which circled back to her.

Turning on his side, slamming his fist into the pillow a few times, he laid like that for several minutes.

"Fuck."

"Here, take this." Brushing past where Wesley was hovering over Cordelia Angel kneeled next to Cordelia's still form with an expression of distress. Placing the ice cold bottle of water in her hand, he took it back from her when she was unable to twist the cap off. Shaking a few Advil into his palm, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "How many?"

"How many are in the bottle?" Cordelia asked in a unsteady voice. Her lips twisted into a half smile. And it made him feel worse. He knew Cordelia was trying to mask the pain she was in. Just like he knew her visions were getting worse.

"Four then." He answered dryly, trying to play along.

"What did you see?" Still hovering, Wesley had a pad of paper held tightly in hand, a pen ready to start taking notes. Knowing Wesley meant well, Angel told himself to let it go his over eagerness. Ever since they'd uncovered his future in the Scrolls of Obearsian, Cordelia and Wesley both had been gungho to get through as many cases as they could.

He still hadn't found a way to wrap his mind around the possibility that there could possibly be a light at the end of the tunnel. There was only one downside. By the time he reached the point where he reached his Shanshu, their Great Grandchildren were going to be dead.

"Lindsey McDonald." There wasn't anything else she could've said would've surprised him more. If the Powers were under the belief that he was going to be saving that piece of shit they had another thing coming. "David Nabit."

"What'd McDonald do now?" Grumbling to himself, Angel ran a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"No. I don't think he's involved like that." Shaking her head with a wince, Cordelia took the water from Angel's hand and swallow the pills.

"But you just said Mr. McDonald's name." Looking up from his pad of paper, Wesley's pen had stalled.

"He's there. We're there." Evading the confused looks she was receiving, Cordelia rubbed at her temples. "It's more jumbled then usual. So many emotions and colors. I'm going to need time to sort it all out."

Angel gave Wesley a look when it looked like he was about to ask another question. "Why don't you take a nap upstairs?"

"Don't treat me like that." With as much pep as she could muster, Cordelia gave Angel a sharp look that lasted only as long as her weary eyes could focus. When there were three Angel's staring back at her with a twin expression of stubbornness, she gave up and leaned back against the coach. Which he was eternally grateful for. When Cordelia decided to dig her heels in, it took an act of God, or Goddess, to make her change her mind.

"Perhaps Angel's right and a nap is in order." Wesley said. "Then perhaps you'll be able to sort through your vision. Well that is . . . there's no time restraint is there?"

"Wesley." Forcing the name through clenched teeth, Angel glared at the other man and didn't drop his gaze until Wesley backed down. "Why don't you see if you can get David on the phone while I get Cordelia into bed?"

Fidgeting under the heavy stare, Wesley swallowed hard before slipping off.

"Do you need help?" Having learned his lesson over the last few months, if he didn't push her in the forward direction immediately, she'd side track him and get her own way in the end. Right now, she desperately needed rest.

"Let me just close my eyes for just a minute and I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I could carry you up to my room. It'll be a lot more quiet up there." Brushing a strand of her hair from her face, he hated how worn out she looked. It was wrong that a twenty year old could look this tired.

"Angel I'm fine." Yawning, the stress lines on her forehead lessened. "Just let me sleep for a few minutes."

Watching until her chest fell in a slow, steady rhythm, Angel lowered himself to the ground next to the couch. They were going to have to find a different way of doing things. Some kind of spell or enchantment perhaps, to help Cordelia with the visions. Or maybe something to take them from her entirely. She may fight him on it, but he wasn't going to lose her because the Powers couldn't come up with a more creative and safe way to send him on his missions.

Looking around the lobby of the Hyperion, Angel listened to Wesley's voice coming from the back office. The Powers must be sick in the head, if they had heads, if they thought he was going to help Lindsey McDonald they had another thing coming. Forcing Cordelia with that kind of pain, over a person who wasn't worth it made this that much more intolerable.

"Angel." Wesley called out as he hurried from the office. "There's been an accident."

His day was shot to hell and it wasn't even noon yet. Currently covered in a Caramel Macchiato, something his client just had to have before their meeting with his soon to be ex, Lindsey glowered at his secretary's empty desk as he barged through his office doors. Apparently the temporary from the secretary pool hadn't had the grace to make an appearance, which left him high and dry for the rest of the day.

To top off the crapfest which was slowly becoming his life, Lilah seemed to have created a second sense where he was concerned. Always one step behind him, her annoying tight smile mocking him, while her eyes seemed to burn holes into him. She'd been uptight since she'd all been cut out of the project dealing with Angel's resurrected ex-psycho. He wished Holland would just give her another project to occupy herself with, because he was getting tired of her games.

"You look absolutely horrible." Not appearing to be apologetic in the least, Lilah sauntered up from behind and tsked at him. "Did you know you have a little something on your shirt?"

"Is there a reason you're here?" Loosening his tie in an angry jerk before tossing the destroyed garment into trash can, Lindsey tried not to remember how much it had cost. "I'm a little busy."

"I can tell." Leaning closer and taking a sniff, Lilah smirked. "Is that decaf?"

Answering her with a grunt, Lindsey moved away from her and to the closet on the other side of the office. Whenever she got to close, the suspicious part of his brain told him to keep an eye out for a knife sticking out of his back. She was a viscous woman who didn't like to loose. It wouldn't come to much of a shock if she had a Succubus somewhere in her family tree.

Stripping off his shirt, Lindsey balled it up and tossed it to the floor. He wished she'd just say whatever the hell she was busting at the seems to say and get it over with. His day wasn't even half over and with only three hours of sleep he didn't know just how long he was going to keep a lid on his temper.

"So when did you start taking divorces in your case load?" Pretending to examine her manicure and not his bare chest, Lilah looked like a starved woman who'd been denied of sex a little too long.

"Since Holland told me to do it as a favor for him." Uneasy under her scrutiny, Lindsey berated himself for forgetting that Lilah wasn't one of the guys. Pulling on a clean crisp shirt he buttoned it quickly.

Raising her brow, the gleam in her deadened. "Holland?"

Knowing he was losing the edge by allowing the corner of his mouth to slip up just a fraction. "Yeah, he asked me to call him that at the club last week."

"If you two are so close, why is he making you take on a divorce?" Lilah asked in a clipped tone.

Taking time to savor her irritation, Lindsey slipped on a new tie, taking his time so she could stew. It gave him time to figure out how to explain how he ended up getting roped into the stupidest divorce known to human and demon kind. It belittled his talents and undermined his ranking. It had cost him a large amount of pride to keep a smile on his face while Mr. Manners had approached him.

He hadn't bothered with a divorce for years now. It was something the well trained monkeys from the third floor handled. Instead Holland had slapped him on the back and stated it was a favor the Senior Partners as well as himself. Like he even had a chance to say no.

It should have taken only a week tops to get things in order, seeing how the soon to be ex-Mrs. Corbin had signed a prenuptial. Instead she threatened to expose his client for the demon he was. Literally. After this last meeting there was no telling what was going to happen. It never bode well when ones client tries to kill someone with their lawyer present.

"Lindsey. Lilah."

Looking up to the doorway where Holland Manners was standing, Lindsey was thankful his conversation with Lilah had come to an end. For now anyway. His sleepless nights were catching up with him and it was hard to stay on the top of his game.

"Heard there was a little issue with the Corbins today." Of course he had, Lindsey thought, he was probably watching the entire meeting from the comfort of his office.

"Nothing we can't bounce back from sir." There was no missing the tight smile on Holland's face. "I have one of our Shamans already working on erasing Mrs. Corbin's lawyers memory of this afternoon. She'll be without a witness."

Almost holding his breath, Lindsey waited as Holland thought this through. "Explain why only the lawyer."

"I figured it would serve to remind Mrs. Corbin not to play a game she doesn't know the rules to." Disliking the way Lilah was enjoying Holland's grilling, Lindsey forced a smile. "Of course Mr. Corbin thinks it'd be easier to just get rid of her, but as you asked I got him to understand why we can't do that at this time."

"Very good." With a nod, Holland's face relaxed. "Very well thought out. Lilah, I noticed the file I asked for still isn't on my desk."

Lilah's amused expression slipped off her face. "I apologize sir, I will go see why it was delivered this morning."

"Thank you Lilah." There was no warmth in his eyes when he smiled at her as she excused herself. Waiting until she was gone, Holland closed the door behind her. "Lindsey we need to talk."

Almost tripping on his way to his desk, Lindsey caught himself. There was never a good conversation at Wolfram & Hart that started that way.

"I'm concerned about you Lindsey." Holland started softly, sounding like a concerned parent, instead of an upset employer. Which was good, seeing how this could be the moment Lorne had been speaking about. That is if Lorne had been correct. "You appear to be worn out these last few days. I hope your not coming down with something."

"No sir." Quick to respond, Lindsey couldn't shake the way Holland's eyes bored into him. "Never been healthier."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that." Holland smiled. "But I can't help but still be concerned. Maybe I've given you too much."

Startled, Lindsey frowned. "Sir have I done something to displease you?"

"No. Nothing like that.." Shaking his head, that damned smile still on his face, Holland walked closer reaching out and patting Lindsey's shoulder. "I can't tell you how proud I've been of your progress. I just don't feel that you've been taking care of yourself."

"Just a few long nights." The smile on his face felt brittle.

"Do you know what you need?" Holland answered before Lindsey could respond. "A wife."

"Excuse me Sir?" Lindsey couldn't had been any more confused if Holland had asked him to cough up a kidney.

"You need someone to take care of you Lindsey. There's nothing better than coming home to a warm meal and a loving woman."

"Sir." Lindsey started slowly, making sure he chose his words well. "I really don't have time for casual dates at this time in my life. I hardly see how I'm supposed to find a woman to marry."

"Oh heavens, of course you don't have the time for that." Holland laughed. "No. We have an agency we use for that sort of thing. Now don't look at me like that. This isn't some escort service. Besides, we're still dealing with the mess the Fleiss case caused."

Feeling he needed to make some sort of gesture when Holland paused, Lindsey nodded numbly.

"No, this particular group has been around for half a century. Not only do they have the best trained women but they are very well rounded. Most can speak multiple languages. Are certified by Cordon Bleu. While they're bedroom skills are known through out the world." A wicked grin curled at his lips.

Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, while his intestines knotted into a fierce ball. The thought of having some Wolfram and Hart handpicked wife greeting him when he got home every night made his private area shrink.

"Sir I appreciate your concern -." Stopping when Holland raised his hand, Lindsey felt like a cornered animal who knew their time was running out.

"No need to make a decision now." Smiling again like an over indulgent grandfather, Holland Manners slapped Lindsey on the back. "The thought of being chained down makes most men a little green. Just think about it. When you're ready we'll get HR on it."

"Yes sir."

Salvation came in the sound of Holland's cell phone, ringing from inside his suit jacket. "Yes?"

The smiling, grandfather like expression faded seconds into the call.

"That's totally unacceptable." Snapping, Holland listened again to the voice on the end of the line. "These are only excuses. I want you in my office in one hour so we can discuss how disappointed I am."

"Trouble Sir?" Lindsey asked, relieved for once he wasn't responsible for Holland Manners bad mood. "Is it Darla?"

"What?" Frowning, Holland looked up almost having forgot he had company. "No, not Darla. This is something bigger I am afraid. You and Lilah will need to clear you schedules and meet in my conference room in twenty minutes."

Watching as Holland left his office, Lindsey felt a cold shiver roll through his body.

Shaking it off, Lindsey hurried to inform Lilah of their afternoon agenda, while telling himself not to make too much out of the sick feeling in his stomach.


End file.
